


Jurassic Park

by cosimascully



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosimascully/pseuds/cosimascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re trapped in this godforsaken park, being chased by dinosaurs, and the only way out is over that fence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jurassic Park

**Author's Note:**

> So, obviously, this is inspired by the movie Jurassic Park. I rewrote the fence scene with Ten and Rose, because I thought that it could be really shippy if they went through the same thing. :D

He runs, panting, and it’s strange– he’s never felt this rush of adrenaline combined with absolute terror.  The adrenaline by itself, yes– when finding a particularly rare specimen on a dig; when coming into contact with echoes of the past– but this torrent of energy  _and_  stark fear– that is something new.

It’s also strange– peculiar, even– that he is analyzing his hormones and fears, as if that really matters  _now._   It’s just that he feels distanced from himself, so far away– or maybe it’s that he  _wants_  to be away, anywhere but here.  Anywhere but in Jurassic Park being chased by a bloody great dinosaur.

“You– you okay?” he says aloud, between pants, turning towards Rose.  She’s bent over double, wheezing for breath, her hands on her knees.  Brilliant, brilliant, fantastic Rose, who he’s known for five years, who’s been his partner in paleontology for some of that time, who’s stuck on this godforsaken island with him. Rose, who’s been  _amazing_ , these past twelve hours– what with a mad T. Rex and running and being stuck in that damn car and finally falling asleep in the tree.  And now more running, more panting, more adrenaline and terror– a deep set fear that they might not make it this time, that they might get caught.

“’M fine,” she murmurs, and suddenly straightens from her bent over position.  She grabs a bright pink elastic– strange, how he notices the color, now, whilst running for his life, but it seems that he always notices, with Rose– and gathers up her hair, her blonde hair, so that it’s out of her face in a pink and yellow bundle.

“Good,” he says.  “I am too.  Weeell.  Besides being chased by a Tyrannosaurus Rex through a theme park.  Besides almost dying a half dozen times in the past few hours.  Besides not being able to breathe very well, on account of all the running.”

She laughs lightly, and he grins, happy that he’s able to bring some humor into their  _situation_.

“Same here.”  She pauses.  “D’you think they– Jack and Donna and Martha– will find us, get us back to headquarters?  D’you think they’re looking?”

“Ye _p_!” he proclaims, trying his best to be confidant.  “We’ve just got t’ do our bit– keep moving, try not to get eaten, make our ways back to headquarters.”  He looks about.  “Speaking of which, where d’you reckon we head next?”

Rose bites her lip, looking around herself.  Then something catches her eyes, behind the Doctor.  “Over that fence, d’you reckon?”

He spins about, and is met with the sight of a tall metal barrier, made of thick cable cords and signs that proclaim  _WARNING: 10,000 VOLTS._  His stomach sinks.  He knows that they were  _trying_  to get to the perimeter fence, but… He was rather hoping that they could find a way out of the park without climbing.  Maybe if one of the dinosaurs had ripped through it?  He shakes his head.  No, no, that would’ve been bad.

Still, he’s got to forage on.  Pretend like it’s no big deal, like he can do this.  Then, maybe, he  _will_  be able to do it.  Grabbing a stick, he walks confidently toward the fence.  Even though the warning light is off, it’s probably the best idea to check beforehand.

Rose is right behind him, and watches intently as he stands in front of the fence.  Casting her a quick glance, he  _throws_  the branch at the cables.  It clatters to the ground, unaffected.

Then, hesitantly, he holds out his hands, getting himself ready to touch the metal.  Rose holds her breath, her eyes unable to blink as his skin makes contact with the fence.

He suddenly goes  _stiff_ , as if seized by some sort of muscle contortion, and a yell  _rips_  from his throat as his body is jerked back and forth.  “Doctor!” she screams.  “ _No!”_  Oh, god, he can’t be electrocuted, she  _needs_ him.

And then, as suddenly as his spasms began, they stop.  The Doctor lets his hands drop to his sides, and he  _laughs._   Laughs!  She huffs indignantly.

“Was only joshin’ you,” he says, as if it’s no big deal.

“Don’t  _do_  that!” she exclaims, and she realizes her hands are fluttering uselessly by her face.  “God, Doctor, there are some things that I  _don’t_  need in my life!”

He instantly feels bad– perhaps it wasn’t amusing, not in this situation– and reaches out for her, grabbing her into a fierce hug.  She clings to him, tightly, and it reminds him of the way she held him last night, as they slept.  Bare arms and skin touching, teasing; fingers clasping onto his biceps and shoulders; begging and desperate.  He rests his chin against her hair, breathing in everything about her– he can easily smell the mud and sweat and tears on her, but under that is the perfume she was wearing yesterday– a flowery scent that put his head in a whirl– and the shampoo and soap that she used to clean herself last.  It is all very  _Rose-like_ , and he can’t get enough of it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.  “Only, it seemed funny.  In my head.”

“It was,” she says back, and he shivers.  Her cheek is pressed against the hollow sort of space above his heart and below his shoulder.  And as she speaks, her lips almost brush his upper arm.  He tries to imagine, what it’d be like if Rose were to kiss him there, properly.  It’d probably be brilliant.  “I’m sure we’ll be laughin’ ‘bout it in a week or two, when we’re safe at home.”

He nods, his cheek brushing her temple, and he has to let go, cos they need to hurry– hurry up and climb the bloody thing before the T. Rex or a velociraptor decides to show.

Only… He really,  _really_  doesn’t want to climb.  Not at all, not in the slightest.  He reaches out a hand, letting his fingers grasp the metal, but he quickly has to let go.  No,  _no_ , he can’t hoist himself up there like some bloody trapeze artist.

Rose looks at him, sees his hesitation, and the question is clear in her hazel eyes.

“I’m afraid of heights,” he blurts out, and his cheeks flame a bright red.  He’s managed to keep his little phobia a secret all these years, but he can’t any longer.  No when faced with the task of climbing this enormous, 20 foot tall fence.

Rose stares at him.  “But… The helicopter ride.  And climbing up to get me out of the car.  And sleeping in that tree!  Those were at heights, ‘nd you didn’t have a problem!”

He shakes his head.  “That’s different.  Machines are safe, and then you were in danger, and where we slept felt  _secure._   Climbing, hand over hand up a bloody great fence, supported only by my own strength– no.  How–” His voice breaks.  “How can I know that I won’t let go, Rose?  That I won’t fall?”

She smiles softly.  “Cos I’m here.  I won’t let you, ‘kay?”  She pauses.  “I’ll go first, that sound good?  You follow me, do as I do.  If I can do it, y’ can to.”

He tries to smile back, but he can only manage to nod.  Seeing his tight look, she bumps his shoulder with hers, winking.  “’Sides.  You’ll get a pretty good view, below me, yeah?” And with a cheeky wink that leaves him gaping, she brushes past him, reaching for the fence.

 _If she can do it, so can I,_  he thinks, and follows her.

It’s not easy, climbing the fence.  His hands are slick with sweat, and his legs insist on trembling, as he makes his way higher and higher.  But with frequent glances up at Rose– she’s right, the view  _is_  rather nice– and words of encouragement, he makes it to the top.  Breathing deeply, he lets himself look around, tries to forget that he’s twenty feet away from where his feet belong.  The view is fantastic– all forests and green hills and nature.  He closes his eyes, remembering the song of the Brachiosaurus, the sound of it singing.   _Last night, I had heard a right, proper dinosaur_ _, **singing**._ It’s still seems impossible– though he should be used to it by now; he’s almost been eaten by its scaly relatives several times.

“You comin’ Doctor?” Rose calls up, and he glances down.  Oops.  That was a mistake.  The ground tilts, and he closes his eyes, trying to block the image.  Focuses on the cool metal beneath his fingers.  Rose is already halfway down the other side, and he needs to catch up.

He swings over the side, his leg getting momentarily tangled in the cable, and he has a quick moment of panic.  But then he’s facing the opposite direction, and heading down this time.

Only, he’s got no Rose to look up at, and it’s hard to find places to put his feet without looking down.  He’s most definitely slower coming back to earth than going up, and he feels  _angry_  with himself, for not being faster.

Rose thumps to the ground, letting herself drop the last few feet rather than clambering off the fence.  The Doctor’s still close to the top, and she tries not to feel impatient.  God knows how hard this has been, for both of them– and how patient with  _her_  he’s been.  The whole stuck-in-a-car-in-a-tree thing had frozen her– and he had been so, incredibly helpful then.  It’s the least she can do to return that favor.

It’s then– when she’s caught up in thoughts of the Doctor and yesterday and this whole damn situation– that it happens.  The warning light turns on.

Time freezes, as does Rose’s stomach.  The warning light– the  _bloody warning light meant to say when the fence is active and working–_  is on.  It’s  _on._

“Doctor!” she screams, and panic seizes her– a desperate feeling that churns and rocks and tosses everything back and forth.  The fake-electrocution was bad enough, and  _now it might actually happen._

“What?” he calls down, clearly bothered, but obviously not aware of the light.  “’M tryin’ to concentra–”

“Doctor, you’ve got to get down here  _now!”_  she yells.  “The bloody light’s gone on, and the fence might activate– oh, god,  _Doctor, get down here!”_

He tries to scramble down, but his foot gets caught, and it’s delaying him, stopping him, far longer than necessary, and  _hell_ , he’s gonna be killed, fried, and she’ll hafta get out of this bloody park on her own, she’ll hafta go back to ordinary  _life_  on her own, and she does  _not_  want that, not in the slightest.  She doesn’t want anything, not without the Doctor, her stupid paleontologist partner.

“Jump, Doctor, you’ve got to  _jump!”_

“Rose, no!  I’ll be killed, the ground’s fifteen feet away.  Are you  _mental?_ ”

“You’re gonna be killed anyway, you  _moron!_ Now jump!  I’ll… I’ll catch you!”

He stops his desperate scrambling at that.  “Rose,” he says, exasperated.  “I’m eight inches taller than you.  I’ll squish you.”

“Stupid git,” she mutters.  “You’re so skinny, it won’t bloody matter.  Now  _jump!_  I’ll catch you!”  _Or at least cushion your fall._

“O-Okay,” he finally says, after a too-long pause.  “On three.”  He takes a deep breath.  “One.  Two.  Thr–”

The words are ripped out of his throat as the fence activates.

He’s  _shot_  away from the fence, a loose cannon, and his heavy body weight  _slams_  into Rose.  She grunts, as all of his skinny body mass lands on top of her, knocks her off his feet.  She doesn’t care though, not about the bruise that she’s gonna develop from this, or the bleeding cut that she’s already got, from a rock.  All she can think of is the Doctor, and how he’s still, too still, how he was actually  _electrocuted,_  how– she feels his pulse–  _how his heart’s not beating._

She forces herself to breathe, to not panic, cos it’s not over yet, she’s still got a chance.  “I’m not letting you go, you stupid, skinny man,” she mutters, and promptly engages him in CPR.

Pounding on his chest, than breathing into his mouth.  Over and over and over again.  She doesn’t have time to think of his lips against hers, cos  _bloody hell_ , that doesn’t matter, not when he’s dead.  She pounds, harder and harder, than tilts back his head, pinching his nose, connecting their mouths, giving her breath to him.

Then, he coughs; a dry, hacking cough that scrapes against his throat on its way out.  “Three,” he whispers, his voice all scratchy.

She lets out a sob, of relief, of pent up stress, and collapses onto his chest.  “Oh, god, I told you not to do that,” she manages to choke out, as he coughs again, getting air back into his lungs.

“Technically,” he says, hoarsely.  “You never did.  Y’just said… Not to scare you like that.  You should be more clear, next time.”  His arm swings around her, holding her close, letting her know that he’s  _there._

She lets out a laugh, only it’s more of a sob than anything else.  “Right.  I’ll remember that.”  Then she props herself up, leaning over him, getting a clear look into his brown eyes.  “Don’t you dare die on me, Doctor.  I need you.”

Then, without thinking– it’s a time long past for thinking, it’s been all instinct and feeling for the past twelve hours– she presses her mouth to his, desperately seeking him.

He gasps, and then his left hand springs up to cup her face, his right to her hip, holding her in place.  He deepens the kiss, letting his lips slide over hers, hungrily pressing into her, as she takes his lower lip between her own, sucking on it gently.

It’s a confusion of tongues and sweaty limbs, hands running through tangled hair, over bare arms, seeking contact.  It’s a burst of pent up tension.  Oh, god, he’s longed to do this since she first walked onto his dig five years ago, but it wasn’t right.  Wasn’t right for a senior paleontologist to snog a junior one, fresh out of uni.  And it certainly wasn’t right, years later, when she became his partner.  But,  _hell_ , he’s waited long enough, and if he dies today, he’s going to die saying he kissed Rose Tyler.

She needs to breathe, he can tell– her beautiful, wonderful chest hasn’t moved for quite some time– so he moves down her jawline, trailing kisses, nipping, sucking at her neck, the hollow of her collarbone, anywhere he can reach.  She throws her head back, groaning, and he grins against her skin.  Her fingers are thrust in his hair, her nails scraping his scalp, and he takes this as encouragement.

He doesn’t know how long they lie there, just kissing, touching, exploring, but it’s too long, especially when being chased by a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  They both seem to sense this at the same time, pulling back in a synchronized motion.  She hugs him, tightly, and he clings back.  “We’ll get out of this together, yeah?” she murmurs into his chest.

Slowly, he stands up with her.  “Yeah,” he replies.  “We’re gonna survive this, Rose Tyler, just you wait and see.”


End file.
